Deadly Desires and Killer Instincts
By Angela C Blackmoore
Copyright 2017 by Angela C Blackmoore, All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real persons, events, or places are purely coincidental. All rights reserved.
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Table of Contents
Deadly Desires and Killer Instincts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Author’s Notes
Chapter 1
Abby felt her eyes snap open, awake in an instant. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, glancing around herself wildly at the strangely familiar scene. Dark, grime covered walls surrounded her and the floor was littered with dust that gave everything a sameness that was jarring. Then it hit her.
She was back in the shed where Wallace and Bakes had died. But how? Why? She jerked her arms and felt the tight cord holding them to the wooden chair. Whimpering, she tugged futilely at them for a few moments as she began to panic. Then she heard a faint shuffling.
“What’s wrong, Princess?” came a voice from the darkness, an all-too-familiar, sugary-sweet voice that sent chills up and down Abby’s spine. A moment later, a horse-faced woman peered over Abby’s shoulder, her crazy eyes glistening in the half-light that leaked into the grimy windows. “Did you think I’d forgotten about your finger?”
Abby shook her head, jerking away from Bakes and almost unsettling the chair she was on. She didn’t care if she fell, as long as she got away from Bakes. Bakes and her knife, which slowly slid into view arresting Abby’s attention. The cold, black mottled steel slid through the air like a viper.
Quickly, Bakes reached for Abby’s hand, pulling up one of the fingers as she came around to the front of the chair. As she did so, Abby could clearly see the spreading red stain on the front of Bake’s shirt. She could even see a ragged bullet hole in her biker jacket.
“How? How aren’t you dead?” Abby breathed even as she tried to pry her finger from Bakes’ grip.
“Oh, dear Abby,” Bakes purred. “I am dead. Don’t worry, you’ll be joining me soon enough. But not before I get my fun!” The crazed woman’s voice rose at the last, almost shrieking as her anger boiled over. She reared back, cackling like some sick movie villain, and in the light Abby could see the pallor of death over the woman’s face.
“Bakes!” barked another familiar voice. “Shut up, Bakes! You know the boss has business!” Wallace slumped out of the darkness. His front jacket was a ruin of blood and bullet holes where Detective Mike had shot him. Abby could only stare dumb-founded as the man gave her a sly smile, then opened the door to the shed.
Instead of a forest beyond the door, there was an other-worldly corpse-light glow. Abby could feel her face frozen in a horrified stare as something moved within that light. At first, she thought it was a figure, but it was swaying side to side. She couldn’t make sense of it, until it solidified into the body of a gigantic snake. The figure she thought was of a person was simply its upper body held high, and the swaying was it slithering closer.
But instead of a serpent’s head, it had the face of a man. Abby could feel herself whimper again as terror gripped her. It flashed through her body, turning every nerve into a firebrand that had her kicking at the floor to get away.
Bakes laughed, once again behind her to keep the chair from moving, and she peered over Abby’s shoulder. “Don’t you like him, Abby?” Bakes said with a sickly-sweet tone. “He’s just been dying to meet you. Or is that you dying to meet him? Either way, Senator Clark has been a very patient man.”
Senator Clark’s figure paused, wavering like a cobra ready to strike as Abby watched him slowly rear even higher. A hood opened up around his head as he laughed. It was a strange, hissing mix of his normal human laugh and a viper. “So, Abby Morgan. You are to be Hazel’s heir? How delicious.”
“What? How did you know?” Abby heard herself say in a whisper, though the senator clearly heard every word she said. Senator Clark lowered his head and moved toward her, his huge snake body coiling around her. Abby could feel the dry scales rub along her legs, making her skin crawl.
“Oh, I know so much more than you do, dear Abby,” the senator said in a sibilant hiss. “I’m going to take back the treasure. I’m going to take it back, and then I’m going to take great care to destroy that house with your precious grandmother inside.”
Suddenly, in a flash of light, Abby saw her and Hazel’s house through the front door of the shed. It was daytime, and there was a large bulldozer out front that was just roaring to life. Black clouds of smoke erupted out of its exhaust stack, and then the machine began grinding forward.
Abby cried out, screaming for it to stop, but the bulldozer moved forward with a horrible inevitability. Then the blade of the great machine bit into the old wood of the porch and beyond, deep into the house itself. With a great groan as if a huge beast mortally wounded, the house began to list, and then crashed in on itself around the hole the bulldozer had made.
Then Abby heard the scream. A faint, pitiful wail from an old woman that was cut off just as suddenly as it started, followed by a hissing chuckle in Abby’s ear.
“Wake up, Abby. Wake up.”
Abby jerked, screaming at the fading image of Senator Clark’s face as she sat bolt upright in bed. Familiar, soft comforters slid off her shoulder as she stared, wide-eyed and half awake, into the worried eyes of her grandmother.
“Oh, dear,” Hazel said from the edge of Abby’s bed. “Was it the dream again?”
Abby nodded, then crumpled into Hazel’s arms and sobbed.
Chapter 2
Abby sipped quietly at her tea, her eyes still somewhat glazed from the vivid nightmare as Hazel sat across from her at the kitchen table. A small flower arrangement on the tablecloth was currently her focus, though her mind wasn’t really registering it.
They were both wrapped up in warm bathrobes as the heat in the house slowly came to life. At three in the morning, it was going to take a little time, so the tea was a necessity.
“I’m sorry, Abby,” Hazel said softly, her old eyes full of concern. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”
Abby blinked, then looked up at her grandmother, studying the wrinkles that traveled in pleasing lines across the woman’s face. After a moment, she absorbed what her grandmother had actually said and shook her head. “No, there’s nothing you can do. Don’t apologize for something someone else did.”
“But if I hadn’t brought you here, you wouldn’t have gotten caught up in all of this-” Hazel began but Abby cut her off.
“If you hadn’t brought me here, I wouldn’t have f
ound a town full of friends and a wonderful man like Gabe,” Abby said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I wouldn’t have gotten a wonderful grandmother and a wonderful house to call home.” Abby paused for a moment before whispering. “I wouldn’t have gotten my life back.”
“But these nightmares!” Hazel said sadly.
“Aren’t your fault,” Abby answered. “They’re the senator’s fault. They’re Bakes and Wallace’s fault. But more importantly, it doesn’t matter whose fault it is, I can’t just point fingers and complain for the rest of my life. I have to deal with this problem.”
Hazel nodded silently and reached her hand out, taking Abby’s and squeezing it softly. “How? I feel like a ninny for suggesting this, and Bill would laugh at me for it, but have you thought about getting… professional help?”
Abby grinned, hearing the deep pause before Hazel said the last two words. It almost came out in a whisper, but she understood where it came from. Hazel was from a small town and a different generation. Suggesting professional help probably conjured big men holding a straitjacket in Hazel’s mind.
“Actually, that is exactly what I was thinking of,” Abby said, squeezing Hazel’s hand back. “The army was always big on not hiding psychological trauma like that after all the wars. Getting professional help isn’t the bug-a-boo it used to be. I’ll call the doctors later today, or maybe talk to Charlie to see if he would recommend someone.”
Hazel breathed out a sigh and nodded, clearly happy at Abby’s easy acceptance of her suggestion. Standing, she reached for Abby’s almost empty tea cup. “Care for a refresh on your tea?” she asked.
Abby nodded. “I might as well. I don’t think I’ll be able to get to sleep after what I saw. It was the senator, again. This time he was some huge snake creature with the man’s head.” Abby shuddered.
Hazel gave her a look of distaste as she poured hot tea into the tea cups and brought them back. “Was it about the treasure, again?”
Abby nodded. “Yes. Did you remember if anyone had any stories about how Kat got the gold? Or if there were any documents hidden away?”
Hazel shook her head. “No, I didn’t remember anything. My mother didn’t tell me much, or at least nothing that didn’t sound just as outlandish as the rumors going around town. As for documents, I’ve not seen anything.”
“And nothing but the chests downstairs?” Abby asked dejectedly. “No hidden doorways or covered nooks?”
Hazel began to shake her head but then paused. “You know, I’ve never thought about it. In fact, I’ve never looked in three of the chests, to tell you the truth.”
Abby and Hazel looked at each other, their eyes slowly widening. “I think it might be time to look in the chests,” Abby whispered.
“I think you might be right,” Hazel answered before both of their eyes traveled to the pantry door. “But it won’t be today. We’ll have to wait until Bill is out of the way on one of his errands. I think he’s planning on going up to some prepper’s show in Portland in a week or so, but I’ll have to make sure.”
“Preppers?” Abby asked, curious. “What’s a prepper’s show?”
Hazel waved her hands dismissively and snorted. “Preppers are people who believe in disaster preparedness and self-reliance in case everything goes to pot. Not always a bad idea, especially living on an island. Bill’s believed in self-reliance all his life, and if he had his way, we’d be completely off the grid, as he calls it.”
Abby nodded, not at all surprised at this bit of information. Mr. Wilberson had said on more than a few occasions that trusting the government for everything was not a good idea.
“Anyway, I know it’s a pain to wait, but it has helped me keep the secret for my whole life,” Hazel said, taking a sip from her tea. “I’ll let you know the day, and then I can finally show you my burden.”
Abby took a deep breath, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Here she was, talking to Hazel about a secret the Morgans had kept for over a hundred years, one she was going to be responsible for some day. Still, a small thrill shivered through her. She’d never seen a gold bar, much less a couple of chests full of them. “That’s okay, Grandmother,” Abby said. “I couldn’t do it today anyway. I had plans to go up to the state hospital and check up on Samantha Green, remember?”
“Oh,” Hazel said, her eyes going a little wide as that little tidbit made an impact. “That is today, isn’t it? How do you feel about it?”
Abby grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to it, honestly. I’m still not sure why I’m helping them out. Buck is the one that took a shot at me, after all, and Samantha tried to poison us.”
Hazel’s mouth pulled into a thin line as she reached out and patted Abby’s arm again. “Yes, I understand it isn’t easy, but they need our help. For all the bad apple Buck was, Samantha has had a difficult life, and you know she’s got some mental challenges. That’s why she’s in the state hospital for killing Craig Malcom and not in jail.”
“I know,” Abby said, remembering the shy, strange girl she’d met soon after coming to town. Samantha had been nice enough, but clearly had struggled with people. “I’m going to meet Gloria at Becky’s café and we’re going to ride in together.”
When Craig Malcom was going to destroy the town park and dig up an old oak tree that had some family ancestors buried under it, Samantha had poisoned Craig to stop the tragedy. She’d succeeded, and when Becky, Abby’s best friend was accused of the crime, Abby had begun to snoop around the case. Samantha had then tried to poison Abby to protect herself. Fortunately, Abby had figured out the killer before Hazel and Bill had opened the bottle of wine that had been meant for Abby.
However, Samantha was ruled unfit to stand trial and had been remanded to the Oregon State Hospital, a place Abby wasn’t looking forward to visiting.
Chapter 3
“Be nice, Becky,” Abby hissed softly as Gloria Sanborn came in the front door.
“What?” Becky said defensively, even as she tapped her toe and half-glared at the other red-haired woman.
Abby didn’t answer, but pointed toward Becky’s furiously tapping toe and then at her lowered eyebrows, making Becky roll her eyes.
“Fine, of course I’m worried about you getting all mixed up in this,” Becky whispered, trying to talk fast before Gloria got within hearing range. “Buck did take a shot at you, and Samantha, bless her heart, tried to slip you a fatal mickey. You can’t blame me.”
“I’m not blaming you,” Abby answered. “I’m most of the way there myself but something Hazel said made me change my mind.”
“What did Hazel say?”
“She said, you help people because it’s the right thing to do, not because they fit some checklist,” Abby said, shrugging.
Becky snorted, but didn’t respond as she mulled over the words. She didn’t seem convinced, but their conversation was cut off when Gloria walked up.
The woman eyed Abby with a cross between hesitation and defensiveness. “Abby,” Gloria said by way of greeting. Gloria was taller and broader built than either Abby or Becky, having fewer curves than either woman. She also wore no makeup though it seemed to fit the jeans and flannel shirt she wore.
“Gloria,” Abby said back politely, “How are you this morning? Did you want to get something to eat before we head out?”
Gloria pursed her lips in thought, hesitating. It was obvious Gloria was considering it but didn’t want to inconvenience Abby or delay their departure.
“If it helps, I haven’t eaten anything yet, either,” Abby said, cursing the fatalistic Pacific Northwest politeness. “I was thinking of getting a bagel.”
Gloria brightened at that suggestion and accompanied Abby to one of the tables. After ordering food, both women sat and did everything but look at each other. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and it didn’t help that Becky would give her an eyebrow wiggle from behind Gloria whenever she moved to help a customer.
Finally, after they’d received their food, Abby couldn’t tak
e anymore and cleared her throat, looking at the larger woman. She said the first thing that came to her mind, but was almost surprised at the words. “I’m sorry, Gloria,” she said.
Gloria looked quickly at Abby before raising an eyebrow and then frowning down at her plate. The woman took a breath before raising her eyes once again. Instead of the uncertainty that Gloria had been exhibiting before, now she looked determined. “Don’t apologize,” she said, “I know it’s not your fault. Buck always was a screw up and Samantha did her own thing. You didn’t do anything but figure it out.”
“I thought you blamed me.” Abby stated, clearly befuddled. “It felt like you were angry with me when we saw you at Butters.”
“No,” Gloria answered, “No, I just said that because I don’t’ know what else to do. Buck is gone, and honestly, I’m not too sad to see it, but Samantha and Demsey don’t deserve to be killed. Samantha screwed up, to be sure, but she honestly doesn’t understand what she did. Not really. Demsey is worse.” Gloria put her fork down and turned away from Abby and looked outside. “I know Demsey is scary, but he’s got mental issues just like Samantha.”
Abby frowned and shook her head. “Both of them? Why were they even hanging around with Buck?”
“Because he knew how to talk to them, so they didn’t feel stupid,” Gloria said, shrugging. “The rest of us? We just talked down to them, but Buck wouldn’t. He treated them badly, but he also treated them like they were normal people, not idiots.”
Abby just shook her head. She didn’t know how to relate to the idea of someone being angry and abusive as favorable, but it was a known thing. There were plenty of stories of wives and mothers that put up with it. Was this any different?
“So, how do you know someone is trying to kill them? Or that Buck was murdered on purpose, rather than accidentally?” Abby asked. “I hate to say this, but my one interaction with Buck wasn’t very favorable. He seemed like the type to pick fights.”
Gloria turned back to Abby and nodded soberly. “That’s fair. That’s what the police said happened. That he mouthed off to the wrong people and paid for it, but after that, Samantha said she felt like she was being watched. Also, Demsey and I have noticed some people following him.”
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